


Adventures in Roger Taylor

by poptod



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, One Shot, Random & Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poptod/pseuds/poptod
Summary: You, the gender unspecific character of this story, get to meet Queen with a special backstage pass. You happen to click with the group, and after the night, Roger asks you to dinner.AKA, the different textposts on tumblr that I incorporated into a story.





	1. Is Roger Short?

**Author's Note:**

> prompt:  
> short fan: you’re so tall though!  
> roger: *brings them over to meet the rest of queen*  
> roger: tell them what you said

You felt shaky all over. You leaned against the wall for support, feeling your legs nearly give out beneath you. Part of you was still unbelieving that you weren’t dreaming, and you closed your eyes for a while to clear your mind. Around you were much of the background staff from the concert you’d just seen - a beautiful, life changing (at least for you) performance by Queen. Thinking about the concert, you took a deep breath, reopening your eyes. There was a man in front of you, wearing a white button down, done all the way up to the top and the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“You the kid with the backstage pass?” You stammered for a moment, realizing that you were just about to meet _them_.

“Y-yeah, I’m not a kid. I’m 27,” you corrected the man. He nodded grabbing your shoulder with a light grip and leading you through double doors guarded by two large looking men in blue suits. He led you through a wide hall, covered in graffiti and posters. Doors lined the sides every now and then, and he led you to one with a small label on it, reading ‘QUEEN.’

You gulped. He opened the door.

The inside was laden with clothing thrown around, especially scarves and feathered boas tossed onto the counters, and shoes beneath chairs. In the furthest corner of the room, there was an old looking couch, and on it, lounging a familiar looking blonde wearing naught but a bathrobe and socks. You turned to face the man who brought you there again, to ask him something along the lines of “help me,” and “what the fuck,” but he had already gone, closing the door behind him.

You coughed awkwardly, and the blond’s head rose from the couch.

“Oh! Oh god,” he, who you now identified to be the one and only Roger Taylor, grabbed a blanket, pulling it over his legs. “You must be the, uh, kid with the backstage, uh, pass,” he said awkwardly, standing and shuffling to another corner of the room for a set of pants lying on the floor.

“I’m actually 27, but, um, yeah,” you corrected him, stammering only slightly. You closed your eyes out of respect as he put the pants on. He mumbled a thank you, and after a short moment he told you it was alright to open them again. He was wearing a shirt and pants this time, a flowy white button up and tight, black pants. He walked up to you, putting his hand forward to shake yours. As he came closer, you realized just how… _tall_ he was. You probably came up to his shoulder, and as he stood in front of you, he towered over you.

You barely took his hand, shaking it weakly. “You’re really tall,” you breathed out, accidentally letting the words slip. His smile fell into a very serious face, and for a moment you were very worried, till he grabbed both your shoulders, turned you around, and led you out the door. At that point, you were downright terrified.

He led you down the hallway further, and to a dressing room that had a lot of commotion going on inside as far as you could tell. There seemed to be voices, then a bang of something being thrown, followed by intense laughing. Roger leaned over your shoulder, and you felt your heart break out of your chest, but he just opened the door and pushed you inside.

The rest of the band was in there. You felt your entire body go numb, feeling like you were about to throw up.

“Tell them what you said,” Roger said into your ear, loud enough for the rest of the group to hear, and loud enough to bring you out of your sick trance.

“I- I said, uh, that you were really, um, tall,” you stuttered quietly, deciding that looking at the floor would be easier than staring into their anxiety-inducing faces, despite their happy and welcoming composure.

“See! I told you!” Roger then exclaimed, letting go of your shoulders and throwing his hands up in the air, before letting them rest on his hips.

“Well yeah, this kids around the size of a mouse,” one of them said. You didn’t care to identify who it was.

“I’d say more the size of a rat,” one of them murmured, a voice you could easily tell was Brian May. “Don’t be fucking rude,” Freddie said, hitting Brian with something which resulted in more laughter. “Why, how tall are you anyways?”

“Probably no bigger than a teacup,” you looked up. The unidentified voice was John Deacon - a bassist you wished you could be as good as. However, that little detail slipped your mind, because Freddie, wearing the same black and white diamond leotard from the concert, was right in front of you, bending by the waist to your height. You could barely remember, your mind blipping out of existence in the presence of someone so fantastic. Somewhere around 150 centimeters maybe?

“Don’t answer that, you have rights,” Roger grabbed your shoulders, then wrapping an arm around you as if to protect you from his mates. You felt the air leave your entire body.

“Come now it’s a simple question. If you’re afraid of the answer. Maybe it just proves you’re short as all hell,” Brian said with a chuckle, stepping closer to you.

“154 centimeters,” you blurted out, feeling an intense pressure in both your skull and your chest.

“I think you’re overcrowding the poor kid,” Deaky said, leaning against a far wall, wearing day clothes instead of concert clothes.

“I’m 27!”

Roger, along with Freddie and Brian laughed.

“Okay kid. Where’d Roger pick you up anyway?” Brian asked, taking a step back to give you space. As Freddie copied, you let out a breath. Roger still had an arm over your shoulders.

“It’s the person with the backstage passes,” Roger informed them, patting your shoulder, then rubbing your arm in a friendly way that made your heart stop entirely.

“I think my legs are gonna give out,” you mumbled quietly. No one heard you.

“Ah! Alrighty then. What’s your name, darling?” Freddie asked calmly, his eyes not leaving your (probably) shaking frame.

“Y/N. Uh, L/N,” you answered, adding your last name for good measure.You had no idea why, maybe they’d ask for it, and then it’d be awkward that they’d have to basically ask the same question twice, and you didn’t answer it correctly the first time, and-

“Nice to meet you. You know us?” Deaky was now closer to you, leaning against a closer wall. He seemed to be the most calm, put together. You had seem some… odd, photos of him, though, which would greatly contradict this statement.

You nodded.

“Any questions?” Brian asked, crossing his arms cooly. Why was everyone here so well put together and you were a mess of leaking hormones and shaking muscles?

“Can I sit down?”

They laughed, granting your request and leading you to a couch that looked similar to the one from before. Eventually you’d managed to calm down. You’d even managed to hold a decent, human conversation with the four of them despite your racing heart and shaking hands.

As all good things must, the evening came to an end, and they escorted you outside.

“You’re really quite a delight. A lot less…,” Brian paused, trying to think of a word. “Crazy?” Deaky suggested. Brian snapped his fingers with a smile. “Yeah! Less crazy, than the others we’ve met.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry, I just keep all my emotions right here,” you pounded your gut lightly with your fist. Your tone suggested you were going to continue your sentence, so the four of them looked at you.

“Then what?” Roger asked.

“Well. Then I’ll die,” you stated firmly, with a pleasant smile. They burst out laughing, and you let out a breathy laugh as well, pleased with yourself that you’d managed to make them laugh again. At that moment, Freddie leaned in to whisper something into Roger’s ear. His eyes widened, he glanced up at you, before nodding.

“We need to go pack up the instruments,” Freddie said suddenly, straightening his back professionally. “What? No we-“ Deaky started, before being elbowed harshly in the ribs by Brian. “Yes we do,” Deaky wheezed, following the two back into the building. “Wonderful to meet you,” Freddie said as he left. You returned the sentiment.

Your gaze drifted back to Roger, who was currently standing silently and staring at you. “So what was that about?” You asked. He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together a little bit.

“Do you want to go to dinner? Just me and you,” he asked very suddenly, catching you way off guard. So instead of answering, you stared doe eyed at him for a good solid thirty seconds of embarrassment.

“Is… is that a yes..?”

“… yes, or you could just come over to my place. I um, I’m a mixologist, and the bar at my place is,” you rolled onto your heels and back onto your toes, “pretty nice.”

Roger smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling in delight.

“That sounds wonderful.”


	2. First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a bit of a dumbass and much more shy than you'd ever expected.

An hour or two after you’d arrived home, the doorbell rang. You took a shuddering breath, stretching your back slightly as you stood from your couch. Earlier, you decided to discard your concert clothes in favour of something more comfortable, wearing a partially see through crop top along with a white, flowery button down that tucked into your shorts. You’d fussed over it for a while, wondering if it was too much or too little, before deciding that either way you’d be dissatisfied.

With light feet you padded over to the door, opening it slowly so as to avoid making a loud noise. Behind the white painted door was Roger once more, his blond hair curlier than usual, and shining in the near full moon. You sighed almost dreamily, smiling distantly at him. He looked ethereal. When he smiled back at you, your heart stuttered.

“Uh, come in,” you said after a little bit, still smiling dreamily. He nodded curtly, stepping past you and into the threshold of your home.

It wasn’t exactly a home you’d go bragging to everyone about, but it was decently sized, with large windows to let in natural light. However currently, the windows were shut and the curtains pulled.

“Nice place,” Roger commented after a bit, his eyes wandering around the area. “Thank you,” you mumbled back, stepping past him and into the kitchen.

“What’s your poison?”

“My what?”

“What would you like to drink?” You corrected yourself, feeling a blush taint your cheeks.

“What do you have?” He asked.

You chuckled a little bit, telling him that you had an assortment of everything. You were, after all, a trained bartender, and thus sometimes it was good to practice at home. The skill had a certain panache for showmanship.

“Gin and tonic, then, if you please,” he grinned cockily, sauntering over to the bar and seating himself opposite you on one of the barstools. You smiled innocently at him from the other side of the bar.

“Coming up,” you said. The process was simple; only two ingredients, but the moment you pulled out a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, Roger whistled. “Expensive stuff,” he noted. “Only the best for the best,” you said absentmindedly as you poured it. You didn’t notice, but he chuckled, blushing and looking at the ground. He was glad you didn’t notice.

You finished up with a pinch of lime, handing him the cold glass. He took a sip, complimenting you. You laughed shyly, brushing it off and grabbing yourself a beer bottle.

“What, no fancy drink for you?” He asked, leaning back into his seat.

“No, it’s not really my style.”

“Why become a bartender then?”

You paused. It was slightly embarrassing, but the soft look he gave you made it feel okay.

“I thought that mixing stuff together was cool… you know, like potions…,” you trailed off, staring at the floor. When you looked back up, he was smiling brightly at you.

“That’s… fair enough,” he said after a bit.

“It’s childish, I know,” you stopped him, waving a hand in the air. He shrugged, humming a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” You asked, trying to not sound awkward. You failed. However his face lit up, and he nodded, asking what you had.

“Mostly a lot of Asian cuisine. Is that alright?” You glanced up at him shyly. “That’s perfectly fine. I love Asian,” he grinned. You tried to smile back, but you were already ducking under the counter to bring up the pot.

Fortunately for you, he didn’t seem to mind watching you. It was hard to cut up beef and other assortments of vegetables and spices as well as make conversation, so he mostly watched you. He sauntered over behind the counter to where you stood, looking over your shoulder at the boiling pot of noodles.

“What is it exactly that you’re making?” He asked, no particular lilt to his tone.

“Beef ramen. Um-“ you paused, a bean paste jar in your hands as you glanced up at him. “How spicy can you take stuff?”

He grimaced a little. “Not very,” he answered. You nodded, only putting a little bit of the spice in.

Around thirty minutes later, the two of you were sitting at your small, round dinner table, plates empty and stomachs full. Roger had made every attempt to make you smile, and for the most part, he succeeded. You noticed his effort after a little bit; the slight smiles, and his eyes lighting up when you laughed. You thought it was sweet. However after that, he started trying to impress you with various tricks.

“I can twirl my chopsticks, you know,” he said, taking one chopstick in his left and another in his right hand. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Isn’t it the same as your-“

He began twirling them at an incredibly fast speed. To be fair, you were impressed, but it seemed like a talent you’d already seen before, with his twirling drumsticks.

“Wow,” you said with a light chuckle. “Impressive.”

He grinned, looking like a satisfied child. Was he actually trying to impress you?

“I know,” he replied cockily, sighing and staring down at the table with a nod.

“Any other hidden talents I should know about?”

 

 

 

Looking back, you sort of… regretted, asking him that.

It had been about ten minutes of him trying to do this ridiculous thing. You stared silently, watching as he fiddled with his chopsticks again, his tongue stuck out in concentration. You were getting  _really_ bored.

“… you don’t have to impress me, you know,” you said slowly, your arms crossed, leaning back in your chair.

Roger looked up at you, his blond hair falling in his face. “I can do this,” he said, resuming his task of attempting to pick up your empty beer bottle with his chopsticks. He almost got it, the two sticks clutched tightly around the head of the bottle before it clanged back onto the table.

You laughed as he sat back, pouting a little.

“I’m glad you find my misery amusing,” he said, sniffing poshly as he stuck his nose up in the air. You snorted, trying to catch your breath.

“No- you’re, you’re just adorable,” you said, continuing to laugh through the shame of your emotions. You glanced up at him, still in a fit of laughter, to see an incredibly pink face. It spurred your laughter on even more, seeing how you’d made _the_ great Roger Taylor _blush_.

“Oh, come on, I’m sorry. You’re very handsome,” you admitted with a sigh, finally relaxing back into your chair. He spared a look at you, his eyes slightly morose. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back.

“Yeah, I know.”

He smiled at you, and the two of you began laughing once more.

“Though,” he said, trying to talk between laughs, “I must admit. You look very nice as well.” You smiled, knowing from the heating of your cheeks that you were blushing. He didn’t seem to mind though, on the contrary, he smiled even more.

“Oh, you old romantic,” you murmured, staring at the ground, too shy to make eye contact. You heard him chuckle, and the chair creak, before he spoke.

“I actually have a question,” he told you, and you hummed in response, looking back up at him.

“Was this what you always wanted to do? Bartending?”

“Well… no,” you said, glancing around the room. You’d always been a very nervous kid, and very nervous that you wouldn’t get a job, so you explored a lot of options not limited to being a waiter as well as being an astronaut. Roger motioned for you to elaborate, so you did.

“I thought about acting. Also being an astrophysicist, and a doctor, as well as a waiter. And bartending - I actually did think about that as a teenager for a while. But uh, the first career I really thought about seriously was writing. I do it sometimes, no books though… I’ve never even tried to publish any, so that’s my own fault. Actually I thought about starting a band when I was younger too.”

“Really? Did you end up getting a band?”

You giggled a little bit, feeling slightly tipsy as you thought back on your memories of high school.

“Yeah. I did. I had these dozen or so songs written and I had a friend of mine who was into musicals sing them… I didn’t have the right voice for them. I play piano, had an old friend playing guitar, and an amateur from band playing the drums. It was just for fun. Never went anywhere,” you explained. He nodded along as you spoke.

“What about you though? Always wanted to be a rock star?”

He smiled charmingly at you, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Of course. It’s never been anything but the high life for me.”

You cocked an eyebrow, staring at him skeptically.

He let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes.

“I went into dentistry,” he grumbled quietly. You smiled, standing up from your seat across the table from him, and taking a seat right next to him.

“Why’d you do that?” You tried to get as close to him as you could. It felt like a desperate desire, and you were incredibly nervous and 100% unsure as to why you were doing this.

“M-mostly uh, familial pressure,” he said, looking down at your see through shirt. You nodded, and his fast blinking and wandering eyes did not escape your sight.

“Um, what time is it?” Roger asked, now avoiding your eyes and staring at your legs. You looked up at the clock hanging near the table.

“Two hours past midnight,” you informed him. “Jesus Christ it’s late,” you said, mostly to yourself, but he seemed to agree as he stood up.

“I’ve got a performance tomorrow, I really wish I could stay,” he told you, sounding a little sad. He fixed his shirt, flattening it with his hands and then proceeding to pull his pants up a bit. You stood up beside him, and walked him to the door. You were almost surprised that he seemed reluctant to leave. You’d stressed a lot about making sure he had a good time.

“I, um, really enjoyed tonight. Uh-“ he pulled a small, ripped piece of folded paper out of his pocket, handing it to you. You unfolded it, revealing his house number. You smiled at the paper, then up at him. “Call me sometime?” He said, rubbing his palms against his pants. You nodded. pocketing the paper.

“Could I- um, could I kiss you?”

You had to say that you never would’ve expected this level of nervousness from someone who had the nickname, ‘sex on legs.’

“On the cheek,” you replied. Okay, so maybe you were a little bit prude. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind.

He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he leaned in, his hand barely cradling your neck. You tilted your head, and he left what felt like the ghost of a kiss on your cheek. It left you blushing and smiling nonetheless.

“Um- good night, (Y/N),” he said finally, giving you a nod good bye.

“Good night, Roger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof that was boring. hope you enjoyed it nonetheless


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO SORRY about not posting, I've been a bit caught up with my Rogerina x reader skdfdsghsd anYWAY here ya go! Id' like to make a quick note; none of the dialogue or stuff is realistic or sometimes even in character. It's supposed to be more funny than anything.

You had awoken the next morning feeling rather happy. It had been an emotionally satisfying night, you’d met a man who was arguably the most attractive you’d ever seen, and to top it all off, he actually liked you. You weren’t really the most confident person in the world, but you weren’t heavily insecure, and you knew genuine interest when you saw it. Not staying for the night was one, continually having interest and not having the topic stray to sex. The whole asking permission to kiss you - that was huge. Plus, he had given you a way to contact him easily. You also knew about some of the rules of dating, one of which being ‘wait a few days before calling back, so you don’t seem absolutely desperate.' So when you awoke that morning, you planned on not seeing him for a while.

You were… proven wrong, to say the least.

You had a bathrobe on (always one for the luxuries in life) and you were making yourself a healthy breakfast mostly comprised of fruit, when you heard yelling. You furrowed your brows, thinking for a moment, _huh, that’s odd_. You lived on a usually very quiet street. So, in your bathrobe, wearing nothing beneath but socks and carrying a mug that said “I’m Baby” due to a serious error at a factory (that’s why you’d gotten it so cheap), you looked outside your door, stepping out about two or three steps.

It was then that you saw a rather… large, calamity, you could call it. There must’ve been hundreds of people, and they were all running, with four people far ahead of them and looking like they were running for their damn lives. You squinted, bringing your cup closer to your face as you took a small sip.

Did you recognize one of those four people?

Your eyes widened as you immediately recognized them.

 _Fuck, that’s fucking you-know-who._ Frantically, doing the one thing you could think of to help them, you waved. You emptied your cup on the ground, holding it in your hand, waving your arms as high as you could to get their attention. Over the screaming you heard a loud, high pitched ‘FUCK,’ followed by the entire group turning down your lane, and four people slamming you into the wall to get by you, nearly stranding you outside. You would’ve been caught in the crowd, most likely injured, if a hand hadn’t grabbed your bathrobe and pulled you inside right as the door closed. Acting fast, you whipped around to the door, locking it with as much speed as you could muster.

"What the fuck was that?!” You asked, back pressed against the door as you panted.

“(Y/N)! It’s so good to see you,” Roger exclaimed, grabbing you in a giant hug and completely ignoring your question. You watched awkwardly over his shoulder at his bandmates.

“Roger, you didn’t answer my question. What in the hell is going on?” You pushed him away from you, desperate for an answer.

“Uh, oh well, nothing. I-“

“He got on top of a table and yelled ‘I’m Roger Fucking Taylor’ in a crowded restaurant,” Brain interjected, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Wow. You really are fucking stupid,” you said, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. What in the world was he thinking?

“Freddie dared me to do it!”

“I did not! I said “Roger, please don’t get on the table,” and you said “fuck you, I do what I want,” and you got on the fucking table,” Freddie, mimicking the same amount of pure tiredness and sarcasm as Brian had in his voice and stature. Arms crossed, hip popped out.

“Yeah, well -“ He looked at you, then Freddie, then pointed at Freddie and looked back at you and said, “he’s lying.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot and I hate you,” you retorted, crossing your arms as well.

“No you don’t,” Roger said with a condescending little smirk on his stupidly beautiful face. You sulked.

“No, I don’t,” you muttered bitterly, adjusting your bathrobe tighter against your body.

“We’re really sorry to intrude, we hardly know you,” John sighed, beginning to pace in your living room discreetly.

“Though it looks like Roger might know you _reeaally_  well,” Freddie said snidely, eyeing the two of you standing so close to each other. You quickly took a step away from him.

“I’m sorry about all this, I was making breakfast. Would you boys like some?” You asked, scooting past the three of them in front of you, tightening your robe further.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful darling,” Freddie said to you, his body fully turning to watch you strut into the kitchen. “That’s a keeper,” you heard Brian not so covertly whisper to Roger. That was followed by a punching sound, and a sharp groan.

You ruffled your hair a bit, taking out five bowls and starting on cutting up various fruits.

“So,” Freddie said, sitting down on one of your barstools. “How was it?”

You looked up from your cutting board questioningly.

“How was what?”

“The sex!”

You choked on your own spit, keeling over and turning away. Freddie just laughed though, along with John, and Brian, who was snickering in the corner. After a few seconds, you recovered, taking a deep breath.

“We d-“

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Roger interrupted you, staring pointedly directly at you. Your eyes widened, silently asking him _why_  he was keeping it secret that you didn’t actually have sex.

“We didn’t have sex,” you said, still staring straight at Roger and watching him socially die like a sad fish that didn’t have pectoral fins.

A loud chorus of “oohs!” came from the three boys, all either punching Roger or looking at you with the most bemused expression. Roger, on the other hand, looked very betrayed. You just shrugged.

“I’d put on some music but I don’t think we’d hear it very well over the screaming girls outside,” you said once they quieted down. You glanced at the window, seeing a number of girls looking in. You sighed. “Would one of you mind closing the curtains?” Brian nodded, and quickly fulfilled your request.

“Thanks darling,” you murmured, focusing on your cooking.

“Roger I cannot _believe_  you didn’t bed them,” Freddie said quietly, turning to his friend.

“Yeah, you’re usually quite… insistent on that,” Brian added.

“Let’s not forget that _Deaky_  is the one here who’s considered ‘quite prolific in bed,’ huh? I don’t have to have sex,” Roger reminded them, his head turning back and forth as he spoke to the two of them.

“Since when do you not want to have sex?” John said, his arms crossed as he leaned against a wall. The rest of the men agreed with his statement.

“I said no,” you said, your voice louder than their hushed tones. “Besides, we didn’t really get to it. He was busy trying to pick up a bottle with his chopsticks,” you said, remembering his failed attempts. Many, many failed attempts.

“Hey, we did a fair share of other things too!” He said, leaning on the counter to face you closer.

“Oh? Don’t spare the details love,” Freddie said, leaning into Roger.

“We talked,” Roger said, grunting as he pushed Freddie off of him.

“Is that really it? I’m proud of you Roger,” Brian said in an overacted mock of surprise, flapping a hand onto his chest dramatically.

“(Y/N), they’re bullying me!”

“What exactly do you want me to do about it?”

“Kiss?” He looked up at you from his seat expectantly, his lower lip pouting.

“No,” you turned away, still drying off a large peach. Freddie belted out a laugh, slapping Roger on the back. You cringed slightly at the loud sound.

“Anyway, stuff like that is a big deal to me,” you said, throwing the peach in the air asyou picked up a knife. “I’ve never done very many scandalous things before, unlike the rest of you.” You split the peach open, cutting the core out with quick precision. They watched, eyes glued upon your knife. You cut it into slices, then into squares, landing them equally into five different bowls. You repeated the process, then adding oats and milk, serving up the bowls to them.

“This what you usually have for breakfast?” John asked, eating happily. You nodded. After that, it was quiet, which was alarming considering there were supposed to be loads of girls at your window. With a quick glance you realized they had left.

“You can leave now. Doesn’t look like you’re about to be ambushed,” you told them, taking the finished bowls. The four boys checked behind them, seeing empty windows and the lack of shouting.

“Well, thank you _very_ much (Y/N)! This has been pleasant,” Brian smiled brightly at you, getting out of his seat.

“But we must leave. Miami’s got to be furious with us,” Freddie laughed, putting on a fur coat.

“We’ll have to take you to dinner some time, get to know you better,” John suggested as he straightened out his shirt.

You just laughed, giggling awkwardly at their kindness, keeping your eyes down on the floor.

“Rog? Coming?” Brian motioned towards him. He hadn’t moved from his seat. Instead he shook his head, saying he needed to talk to you for a moment. You felt anxious, waiting for the three boys to walk out the door so Roger could say whatever it was he wanted to say to you.

“I hope they didn’t ruin your image of me,” he started off with, leaning on your counter with crossed arms. He smiled gingerly, seemingly nervous.

“I don’t think much could do that,” you replied quietly, picking up the boys’ bowls. He laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck before covering his face with his hands.

“We’re still alright?” He asked behind his hands.

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I dunno, most people who get with me expect a really smooth, flirtatious person and - I haven’t really been that with you.”

“You’re a human person, you don’t have to stick to a persona. Honestly, you’re a whole lot nicer and sweeter than I thought you would be,” you giggled, thinking over the previous nights’ events.

“That a good thing?” He asked, peeking out from behind his hands, only his eyes showing.

“Of course,” you smiled, leaning over the counter to kiss his hands where his mouth was, “But you should get going before your mates kill you.”

He came out from behind his hands, blushing bright red and completely flustered.

“I’ll have you know I won’t concentrate for the rest of the day because of you! That… thing you did,” he pointed an accusatory finger at you, gesturing at your general body area.

“What, show you affection?”

“Yes! That,” he took a few deep breaths, still bright red.

 

 

 

“Would you like another kiss?”

“… yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any spelling errors, i don't ever check my writing if it's not for a grade can you blame me


	4. Falling in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger gets pretty easily flustered for someone considered to be a sex icon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's so short :,) I only write these when I have a funny prompt to work off of. If you want an actual storyline you can check out my other stuff

You’d gone on a few more dates with him, most of them extremely unconventional. You supposed that maybe after having a normal first date, he was bored, but after this one, you thought maybe he was just like this.

Your second date with him had been to an aquarium. It was nice and all that, but he had actually paid for the two of you to be able to interact with a lot of the animals. You asked how he had managed that (originally thinking it wasn’t allowed), but he wouldn’t answer you.

The third date you had with him was much quieter, but still very odd. He took you to a bridge overhanging the Thames, and the two of you sat on the ledge, throwing peanuts at passing boats. Quite a few people got mad at you, and quite a few more actually joined you on the bridge.

On your fourth date, you had picked the setting. He had mentioned multiple times that he enjoyed cars, so you took him to a large venue showcasing both new and old fashioned cars, all highly stylized and coloured. Besides your first date, that date was the only one he kissed you on. It was still only on the cheek.

This date, the fifth one, took the cake when it came to odd happenings. You thought it couldn’t get weirder after what happened on the third date, but you were wrong.

He took you rock climbing. It was indoors, and it looked rather fun, really.

“Hooked in?” He asked you, fiddling with his own belt.

“Yep,” you said happily, bouncing on the heels of your feet excitedly. He smiled at you, giving his belt one last tug before nodding.

“Race you to the top,” you suggested once the both of you were about half a meter off the ground.

“Yeah? What do I get if I win?” He smirked at you, crossing his arms. His body was still pressed against the wall, making sure he wouldn’t fall.

“You get to kiss me.”

His eyes widened, smiling wide.

“And if I lose?”

“You still get to kiss me.”

“I’m definitely winning,” he said, grunting slightly as he heaved himself upwards, jumping about a meter with one move.

“No fair!” You called after him, beginning you ascent beside him.

When at last the two of you reached the top, you were panting, but he’d made it there before you, the bastard. He pat you on the back gently, laughing at your tired state.

“And my prize?”

“That doesn’t _count_ , you had a head start,” you grumbled.

“Then my losing prize?”

You let out a snort, laughing at his eagerness. You leaned towards him, turning your cheek to him and tapping it. He smiled warmly at you, giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

He then sighed dreamily, proceeding to lose his balance and fall. The rope caught him, but not before he banged his ankle against the wall pretty badly. You quickly jumped down, using your rope to move in bursts.

Roger was sitting on the ground, mumbling to himself as he clutched his leg.

“You alright, dear?” You asked hurriedly, falling to his side. A few medics came up, checking his leg. You hadn’t noticed them before but you assumed they were probably required for mountain climbing indoors.

“Jus’ a mild sprain looks like,” a man said, patting your back in a friendly way before leaving.

“Keep pressure off it and use some ice. Should be better in five or so days,” the woman next to you said, before she too left.

“Roger, I can’t believe you sprained your ankle,” you said tiredly, pulling your gear off.

“Sorry?” He offered meekly, watching you as you began taking off his belt as well. Quickly deciding that he wasn’t going to be able to walk, and if he did it would be slow and agonizing, you picked him up. He was surprisingly light.

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” He asked as you carried him out the door.

“What does it look like?” You countered dully, ignoring the odd stares from everyone on the street. _The_ Roger Taylor being carried by some twink nobody?

“Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle,” he asked quietly, his arms now wrapped around you to balance himself. When you said nothing he groaned, digging his face into your neck to hide from society.

You called a taxi, setting him on the nearest seat to the door before crawling in yourself.

“This is embarrassing,” he pouted, his sprained ankle far out in front of him.

“Which part, you getting a sprained ankle from kissing me, or me carrying you down the streets of London like a helpless little kitten?”

He let out a stressed moan, clapping his hands over his face.

“Is the rest of the ride going to be like this?” He asked glumly, his hands falling into his lap gracelessly.

“What do you mean?”

“You berating me for my bad decisions.”

“Darling if I did that, we’d have to ride the M25 about a hundred and fifty two times on a Friday with especially heavy traffic.”

“(Y/N)!”

You giggled, covering your mouth. He lightly slapped your shoulder, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

Besides the occasional teasing, the rest of the ride (while very long) was peaceful. When you reached his house, you carried him inside, which got you a few more weird looks from passersby.

You set him down on the couch, sitting on a nearby chair. Your glaring eyes never left him, and you could tell it was starting to make him uncomfortable.

“Why are you mad at me?” He asked, hanging his head off the end of the couch. His hair dangled, long and messy. You sighed, looking away. If you looked for too long, you’d melt.

“I’m not mad,” you mumbled, crossing your arms stiffly.

“Then what are you, if not angry?” He said in a teasing voice. You didn’t answer, turning further away.

“C’mon, it’s just me,” he said softly. _Yeah, (Y/N), it’s just Roger Taylor._

“Why in the _hell_  did you get so woo-ey after you kissed me?” You finally asked.

“Oh - uh, I - I don’t know I suppose,” he stammered, fidgeting with his fingers. “You’re really pretty,” he offered quietly.

Feeling thoroughly embarrassed and abashed, you stood, turning to face the door so you couldn’t see him. Your hand came to cover your mouth, trying to stop yourself from screaming at how adorable he was.

“Are you leaving? Please don’t leave,” he said quickly, the material of the couch shifting behind you. You turned back around, seeing him attempting at standing up. You hurried over, making him sit back down with a heavy grunt on his part.

“I’m not leaving,” you grumbled, shifting awkwardly on the cushion.

“Oh, good,” he sighed, clearing his throat afterwards.

You sat there with him for a long time. You felt sick in the heart with awkwardness, your muscles twitching consistently, his foot tapping on the ground with a steady beat, the heat and humiliation dripping off him in the tense atmosphere.

“I haven’t been very smooth, have I?” He asked in a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know, the whole - be cool, don’t act desperate thing. I’m not desperate,” he quickly clarified, finally facing you. “I just really like you and I’ve never dealt with actually liking the person I’m dating before.”

“We’re dating?”

“Fuck,” he spat out, quickly turning away.

“Darling, I just didn’t know, it’d be good if you told me these things,” you attempted a weak comfort, placing your hand on his shoulder and trying to get him to face you again.

“I cannot _believe_  the amount of times I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, it’s ridiculous, it never happens -”

“- And it’s adorable,” you stopped him.

He inhaled sharply, acting as though it was painful just to look at you.

You grabbed both his shoulders, chest tense with gathered confidence and anxiety, and you kissed him square on the lips. You could feel him stop breathing as he leaned into you, falling into your inexperienced embrace. You pulled away quickly, mortified at your impulsive actions.

“Don’t know where that one came from,” you said in a choked voice, holding a hand up to cover your mouth. Roger, still sitting across from you, was left speechless. He attempted speech, but it stumbled blindly out of his mouth ending up in incoherent sounds.

“If… if it takes me breaking my bones for you to kiss me, I’ll break every one in my body,” he finally said, looking you in the eyes.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you mumbled, pulling him in for another kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.


	5. Far Too Flirtatious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger flirts too much and the boys have had enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so I definitely abandoned this for a bit. I don't like it lmao but i did say i'd write this to an anonymous comment and i felt like upholding that so heres smut. this is like my second or third time writing it so im very nervous writing it. also, this is a lot longer than my other chapters but shorter than chapters in my other fics. thanks for reading :)

Through a long and confusing course of events you found yourself in an odd position. Roger, who was now ‘Officially’ your boyfriend, invited you along to a recording studio. He failed to mention until you were five minutes away from the destination that it was actually just a barn, and the two of you would be sharing the small house along with Paul, Reid, and the three other members of Queen. You pointedly ignored him for the rest of the short trip. It wasn’t like you could refuse now; you were here, and getting back would be expensive, and you’d already gotten time off from your day job. This left you staying in a barn with six men, which, under different pretenses, could be a very exciting prospect.

The first day you were there, you watched them record. It seemed to be going alright, though you wouldn’t know. Recording studios weren’t really your thing, Roger had just requested that you be there.

What with absolutely no one knowing how to cook, the food was left to you. You hadn’t expected for your work to be trailing after you and invading what you thought might be a fun getaway, but you fulfilled duties nonetheless, and still enjoyed yourself a little.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day that you did not attend for ‘private reasons’, the four boys were sitting on two different couches, all ignoring each other. You had been cooking, as you had been for a while, when you noticed this silent fight.

“Are you lot serious?” You asked, marching into the room with your hands on your hips, mittens on your hand and wearing a frilly apron. It was the only one the barn had.

“What?” Brian looked up at you confusedly, narrowing his eyes.

“Stop ignoring each other, I can hear it in the kitchen,” you hissed at the four of them, whacking the side of the couch with a wooden spoon.

“I’m still mad at Roger!” Freddie called as you turned to leave, making you halt in your step.

“Then play a game that has absolutely nothing to do with your music,” you suggested tiredly.

“Like what?” He asked, making you roll your eyes.

“I dunno, truth or dare?” You suggested weakly, finally being let go to the kitchen once more. You couldn’t over-boil the pasta.

Ten minutes later you checked in on them again, finding them in a deep and engrossing conversation about three genie wishes. Roger noticed you, pulling you down into their circle on the floor. You fidgeted silently, hoping they wouldn’t ask you anything. Games weren’t really your thing.

“What would you do with three wishes?” Brian asked, noticing you sitting beside him. You pressed your lips thinly together, trying to think of an adequate answer.

“Star Trek world, number one. Two, uh… true love, or uh. Something like that. Um… I’d like to be able to play any instrument,” you stumbled through your prepared wishes.

“Can’t believe you’d wish for world war three,” Roger sighed, shaking his head.

“W- What?”

“Star Trek, there’s a world war three they talk about. I think it’s either in the 90’s or the 2000’s.”

“How in the world do you know these things?” Brian asked incredulously, eyes squinting in disbelief.

“I’m just that much smarter than you,” Roger replied, sticking his tongue out.

“I doubt that,” you muttered under your breath, though the words were heard by everyone.

“Hey! Which one of us is your boyfriend?”

Over the course of the rest of the evening, Roger went from being funny to being rather obnoxious. At least, that’s what his friends called it. You’d call it more flirtatious to the point of annoying and downright  _disturbing_  everyone around him.

The four of them had sat down at the table, before the food was even ready, simply talking to each other and discussing in depth their songs. Before long you set the food out, fresh off the oven and grill.

“Don’t eat it yet, it’s hot,” you warned them, looking particularly towards Roger, who always seemed to take warnings as challenges. This time, he was just looking up at you pleasantly, an almost goofy smile on his face. “Roger?” You said, wondering if he was losing his mind.

“Sorry, got lost in your eyes again. What were you saying?” He said, his eyes clearer but just as lovestruck.

“… The food is hot. Don’t eat it.”

“You’re hot but I’d still eat y-“

“ROGER,” Brian practically yelled, his hand coming down onto the table with a loud thud.

“Oh boy,” John muttered under his breath, his eyes downcast onto the table.

“DON’T YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE!”

 

Later, it got worse.

Roger was once again drifting off into his own thoughts, staring at you as you set the table with the help of Paul, who was, for once, pretty quiet.

“You look like you’re dreaming,” you remarked quietly to him, casting him a quick glance before once more paying attention to the order of silverware.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming when I look at you,” he sighed, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. You stuttered something incoherent, blushing bright red as the other boys rolled their eyes.

“Y’know, the things I’ve done with you in my dreams… God, it’d make Satan blush,” he commented after a moment, almost growling at the end.

You turned and practically ran to the kitchen.

In fact, you only came out again once Paul had finished setting the table. You had a bad feeling about Paul, you always had, but it was all intuition. So far he’d been rather nice.

During dinner, in an unfortunate accident you spilled water on your shirt so, covering up your chest, you ran to your room to change. As you left, you heard them talking quietly to each other.

“Roger, you did that on purpose,” Freddie hissed.

“I’d do no such thing. (Y/N) just… ran into my cup.”

You couldn’t hear much after that.

After changing, his attempts to flirt didn’t get much better.

“Nice shirt,” he said, almost prompting you to reply with a thanks before he continued with, “can I talk you out of it?”

“That’s it, I would literally prefer to hear you two fucking than to have to stand one more second at this table,” Freddie said, standing up, his chair screeching against the floor as he did so.

“It is _pretty_  insufferable,” Brian added, tilting his head with an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Even (Y/N) looks uncomfortable,” John said, the only one to take notice of your flustered face.

“Just - just go to your room,” Freddie sighed, pointing the both of you upstairs to Rogers’ room.

“I’m not a child,” Roger bit back, while you sat in your seat melting in your embarrassment.

“If you do it, and leave us for five goddamn seconds of peace I’ll consider your song for the B-side.”

Must’ve been something important to Roger, because he grabbed your hand, and without further word obeyed Freddie’s request. Once in his room you collapsed onto a chair in the corner, groaning to yourself.

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. Why do I like you?”

“Because I’m pretty?” He offered, kneeling in front of you.

“What was _wrong_  with you? You’ve never acted that, that… brash, before.”

“Sorry, love. I suppose after spending 12 hours with those lunatics -“

You hardly believed _they_  were the lunatics over him.

“- I get a little antsy, and seeing you looking so pretty does something to me.”

Oh.

You felt your breath pick up, the sudden realization that he was kneeled between your legs becoming very real.

“What - what do you mean, s-something?” You stammered, crawling further back into the chair as he inched closer, his hands coming up to rest on your knees.

“To put it simply,” his hands trailed up your thigh, coming around your hips. “Something exciting.”

“Are you coming onto me?”

“Trying to.”

“Oh.”

“Is that a problem?” He asked, looking ready to immediately withdraw.

“No, I just… I’m…”

You looked away awkwardly, not wanting to tell him, but needing to despite your worries.

“Yes?”

“I’m a v-“

He awaited you.

“I’ve never…”

“Take your time.”

“I’m shy,” you blurted out instead.

“You mean you’re a virgin?”

“… yes.”

“I know that, love. Kind of obvious,” he chuckled, his thumbs beginning to rub circles into your skin. The slight friction began rubbing your shirt upwards till it was his skin upon yours.

“Mm. No need to be chivalrous about taking my innocence.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll take real good care of you,” he said, leaning up to whisper it into your ear, his breath hot enough to chill your skin.

“Oh,” came the involuntary sound from you.

“In fact, I bet I could have you screaming my name by the end of tonight,”he almost hissed into your ear.

“I… I don’t…”

He began kissing below your ear, leaving tiny bites as he went further to the junction of your neck and shoulder. Frozen in what you decided was either excitement or fear, your hands gripped tight at the arms of the chair, your knuckles turning white.

“Don’t what, dearie?”

You didn’t doubt him. He was well known for being good at sex, that you knew, that you expected. But… you couldn’t _tell_  him that.

“I don’t think you can do that,” was what you said instead of what you actually thought, challenging him to fuck you as hard as he could. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face, and you almost regretted your words. Almost.

He pulled you to your feet, grabbing your wrists and forcing you to collapse fully onto him. Nearly every part of you was touching him, and you felt heat building up in every area of your body.

“So what do you like?” He asked you, his hand coming into your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him access to your neck. For the most part he sucked, _hard_ , leaving what you assumed would be very dark marks in very noticeable areas. “You like being tied up? Gagged? I can do those things. Or maybe you just like it gentle. Maybe you want to be teased,” he said, hands coming down to your hips, trailing their way up your body with a feather touch, just barely raising your shirt before it fell once more.

You didn’t know, it all felt too much, crowding your body with all the choices that were now up to you. You couldn’t make decisions, and with Roger’s lips hot upon your neck you were even worse at it.

“Please,” you whimpered, falling into his grasp as you lost all control of yourself.

“Please what?”

“Just - take control, please,” you asked of him, and he smiled, dragging you towards and shoving you onto the bed. He crawled on top of you, hands coming up beneath your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You curled into yourself, tensing as his watchful eye scanned over your bare chest.

“Wonder what you a few months ago would’ve thought of this,” he murmured against your skin, trailing wet kisses down your sternum.

“What?” You asked weakly, overcome with the sensation, all of it entirely new.

“Tiny little (Y/N), all shy and helpless, walking into my dressing room. If you hadn’t mentioned me being tall, God, I probably would’ve fucked you right there. You looked fucking delectable.” He bit down on your stomach, causing you to let out a small yelp. Looking down, he left a deep mark.

“I - I probably would’ve - would’ve fainted,” you panted out as he began unbuttoning your trousers.

“Can’t enjoy this if you’re blacked out. Kind of gross anyway,” he said, leaning up to press a soft but firm kiss to your lips. You chased after it when he pulled away.

“I think I’m going to faint anyway,” you whimpered, feeling your eyes get teary.

“Hey, you alright?”

“I just want to put a paper bag over my head,” you said, a few tears falling and wetting your cheeks.

“We don’t have to -“

“I want to, I just…”

He nodded, leaving softer kisses against your skin.

“I could blindfold you. Then you lose a sense, no more sensory overload,” he suggested quietly into your ear and you nodded, thinking it to be a good idea. He left you on the bed, letting you watch as he pulled a tie from one of his drawers.

“Try not to ruin it. It’s the only one I have here.”

“I’m surprised you have any at all,” you chuckled nervously as he sat on your lap, the soft material of the wine red tie coming around your head.

“You never know when an occasion occurs,” he replied, tying it behind your head in a firm knot. “If it’s too much, tell me.”

You moved at his whim, allowing him to position you however he liked. Only a moment later he removed everything covering you up, leaving you prone to that stare of his that you could no longer feel. Instead you simply lay there, awaiting his instruction.

“Love, I want to tie you up,” he murmured, somewhere near your face and you nodded silently. You wondered how he’d do it, considering he had no more ties, but that was quickly answered - you heard him undo his belt. He pulled you up, having you sit on your knees, pulling your hands behind you to tie them together.

The bed in front of you sank, his weight giving his position away. His hand around the back of your neck he pulled you towards him and you fell, his lips holding you in place as you kissed. You felt the roughness of his button down on your nipples, the friction sparking a heat in your chest.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah. I am,” he said in reply, pulling away from you. He said nothing more on the topic so neither did you.

He turned you around, pressing his hand into your back to push your face into the plush of the bed. You obeyed his command, landing on soft pillows that you eagerly accepted. Behind you, you heard him undo a zipper, a button popping, and then a wet sound and a groan from him.

His hands started at the bottom of your thighs, coming up and around your ass, rubbing in a nearly loving way. Slowly you felt the heat of him draw closer, until you realized his dick was most definitely resting on your ass. He was leaning too far forward for him not to be sitting like that, his lips kissing the back of your neck in a calming way.

“You look so beautiful like this, love, all open and willing for me. Like my own little present,” he said, breath fanning cool against the skin of your back. You shivered, feeling excitement course through your spine, the heat of your core melting through to the rest of your body.

“Please Roger,” you whimpered, your voice weak from the sensations, his cock embarrassingly heavy on the curve of your ass.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I need you to just fucking _touch_  me.”

He was quiet, then simply hummed a short response. He flipped you onto your back, and you felt him above your stomach, going lower and lower.

“Roger -“

You felt his tongue on you, sucking right where you needed it, causing a shot of pleasure to run all through your body.

“Oh! Fuck, Rog,” you moaned, making a futile attempt to crawl up the bed with your hands tied behind your back, attempting desperately to escape the overstimulation he gave from his lips and tongue wrapping all around you.

“You asked for this, so sit still and enjoy it,” he growled, grabbing your hips and keeping them still. You let out a gasp at his tone and a particularly strong stroke of his tongue.

“Wow, you are going to _town_  on me,” you whimpered out, trying to ease the tension you felt in your stomach. Roger stopped his ministrations, laughing against your leg.

“(Y/N), shut up, I’m trying to be sexy over here and you’re making fun of me.” You felt the vibrations of his laugh through your body which only made you laugh more.

“You don’t have to try to be sexy, you’re already sexy.”

“Good to know you think that.”

He left a kiss on your inner thigh before continuing, continuing to make you very wet and more than willing to get on with it. Without warning he stuck a single finger into you, shocking you, forcing a moan out of you.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he said in awe, mostly to himself, his finger twisting in a come hither motion that rubbed you in just the right way.

“All yours,” you mumbled, caught up in the way he held you, lost in your own thoughts and at the same tie completely thoughtless. Distantly, you heard him groan, but you definitely felt when he put another finger inside you, pushing in to the hilt.

“Fuck, fuck.. me…,” you mewled, your back arching off the bed but your hips staying still as he held them down. His mouth came off you, slick with spit as they trailed up your body, coming to your lips for a kiss.

“As you wish love.”

He flipped you back around, your face pushed into the pillows and your ass high in the air. Both his hands rubbed against your cheeks, his dick rubbing up against your hole, testing the waters.

“Get on with it, _p_ _lease_ ,” you whimpered into the pillows, your speech slightly muffled.

“Patience, dearie.”

Slowly, the head of his cock pressed into you, going deeper and deeper at his agonizing pace. As he entered, despite your more than slick state you felt every ridge of him, every vein, pressing heavy inside you, filling you up in a way you’d never felt before. Sure, you’d masturbated, but nothing felt quite like _this_.

Halfway through he shoved the rest of himself in, forcing a loud moan from your unwilling voice.

“Fuck, you’re tight… I told you I’d have you screaming my name,” he said, leaning to say it right next to your ear, all the while pushing his cock into you as far is it could go. You let out a strangled moan, pulling at your wrist restraints.

“I haven’t said your name yet,” you grunted back as he hit a different angle.

“Oh, there’s still time, love.”

He pulled out before thrusting harsh back into you, a loud moan erupting from your throat as he pounded into you, his own moans becoming much louder as you tightened around him.

“Roger,” you moaned, _loud_ , your voice broken and interrupted with the force of his thrusts. He filled you entirely, _fuck, so big,_  making you jolt with every thrust he made that hit you wholly. His hand came down after a few minutes, rubbing you perfectly, making another loud moan erupt from you to harmonize with his own moans and grunts.

“‘M close, please, fuck,” you cried, your eyes wetting the blindfold.

“Where do you want my cum?”

“Inside, please,” you whimpered, biting your bottom lip. His thrust became uneven as he grew closer to his own release, the feeling of you clenching tight around him not helping at all.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please - please, fuck,” you begged, biting the pillow to stop the pleasure coming out as moans.

“Shit, okay,” he hissed, biting your shoulder as his thrust became short and deep, the angle allowing him to hit right against the perfect spot over and over again. Your legs shook as you came, eyes watering as you shut them tight, the pleasure washing over you in the most intense waves you’d ever felt. A moment later and he came too, planting his seed deep inside you, filling you perfectly. You let out a whimper as he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. He watched as his own cum seeped out of you, dripping down your legs.

Turning you around he helped you up, undoing your restraints and taking your blindfold off. Almost immediately you collapsed onto his shoulder, still panting heavily.

“I love you,” you breathed out, almost delirious from the glow of your after orgasm state.

“Uh - l - let’s, uh, hmm.. let’s get you, uh, cleaned up,” he suggested, his brain short wiring from your words.

The two of you took a lazy bath where you almost fell asleep twice. He got you cleaned up (mostly because it was your first time and you were obviously dead tired from it, he’d done a good job, otherwise he probably would’ve been more focused on his own cleanliness), and himself before helping you into sleeping clothes and tucking you into your shared bed.

“Good night, (Y/N),” he murmured to you, clinging to your half asleep form like a koala.

“Love you,” you mumbled, your lips gentle on his skin as you left the ghost of a kiss, falling promptly asleep afterwards.

“I love you too,” he replied in a quiet hum, left to listen to the silence your sleep gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool. 0/10

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time publishing something on here, and it's a lot more confusing than Wattpad so thank you for stickin' with me!


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